A group of individuals who share a love of cycling and the outdoors. We will always stop for a photo, or to hit a jump. Rubber side up!

We believe the outdoors should be respected. Please, pack it in and pack it out. Leave it better, even. Remember, we’re all ambassadors for cycling, so be polite on the road and the trails and observe the leave no trace principles.

What does the Radavist mean?

Rad + Atavist = RADAVIST

Why does a porpoise surf a wave, or a sea otter slide down a rock? Atavism is a primal trait in humans and animals that drives us to do what we do – what ought to come naturally – it’s the inherent nature of living things to play. Atavism is why we ride the way we ride; From mashing the city on a track bike, riding singletrack on a ‘cross bike and shredding trails on a mountain bike. Take the time to get rad and tell the tale.

Our comment policy is simple: we welcome and value tactful discourse and opinions. You don’t have to agree with our views but please deliver your concerns in a polite and personable manner. This is a safe place, all are welcome to engage in this community. That said, there is zero-tolerance for: racism, sexism, trolling, and slander.

Unless otherwise noted, we do not accept funds for content. This website runs on ad revenue, however, the advertisements do not influence or affect the content or opinions of the authors. If you have concerns or questions, feel free to drop them in the comments on the relevant post.

﻿As humans, we seek exploration of new places and the lessons that such exploration may bring; self-discovery, physical challenge, humility, solitude, community, and unforgettable views to name a few. We refer to this as recreation, which comes from the term “to re-create”. These endeavors are valuable, perhaps necessary, to the self. But, if we only learn about ourselves, the amount that we can give back to the world that allows us the privilege to explore can be limited. Ever so often, we must explore for reasons beyond understanding and re-create ourselves. We must explore with intention and inquiry. If the intention is set to learn not only about ourselves but about the landscape; it’s natural history and current state, we just might be able to become stewards of its future.

The Geology through Bikepacking course offered at Prescott College explores the geology, geography, and ecology of the Colorado Plateau through 3 different bikepacking trips over the course of a month. This course provides an opportunity to learn about a landscape by traveling through it. It uses the bicycle as a means not only for recreation, but for education. This is the story.

Our first route would take us from the edge of the Grand Canyon to the San Francisco Peaks, near Flagstaff. Standing on the rim of the Canyon, listening to wind and crickets, bats and breaths of my classmates, I began to feel an anxiety build within me, of insignificance in the face of time. How can something so massive, so incomprehensibly ancient, be explained by the objective analysis of subjective observation? I suppose this questioning is what got me here.

Fortunately, having as grandiose a whiteboard as the Grand Canyon helps demystify. The principle of superposition lays a basis for understanding the reading of a schism, not unlike rings in a tree. Sheer cliffs and crumbling slopes tell a story of deposition based on rock type and their relative competence. A story of shallow seas and sand dunes sets the stage for our ride forward into time, towards the much more recent volcanism that created the vast San Francisco Volcanic field.

We depart during a warm afternoon, flowing over sharp limestone of the Kaibab formation. Ponderosa pines provide shade and scent, and despite the ratcheting of our freehubs, Kaitlin and I share conversation for some time. I become more aware of the composition of the rock in contrast to the soft, organic soil as large, jagged pieces poke out from under litter and duff. A viewpoint offers a peek at the edge of the Grand Canyon, a hole in the ground, the end of the Earth, a surprise horizon. All we can see from this point is Kaibab limestone and its grey-yellow outcroppings. The Moenkopi is all but gone from this landscape, and reminds us of the impermanence of structure in a universe bound for chaos.

On day two, we transition to dirt roads that are much more forgiving on a rigid bike than the chunder of Kaibab singletrack. Though still riding on the “tear-your-pants” limestone, the roads’ pulverization by graders, tractors, and trucks makes the going much smoother. Midway through the morning, the San Francisco peaks come into view, and tower over us. They would not leave our view for the remainder of the trip. One of our group learned about the importance of staying hydrated in the desert, and another learned that eating a jar of peanut butter is not a sufficient lunch, and in fact, is detrimental to one’s ability to pedal.

Our final day is spent climbing towards the 9400’ saddle east of Humphrey’s Peak. Dirt roads gave way to beautifully carved tan and red singletrack that grips tires with joyous voracity. Pines give way to aspens and ferns, and I wonder to myself: am I still in the desert?

Hidden Gems of the San Fransico Peaks

Our final descent into Flagstaff is a dynamic trail made of decomposed igneous, with large chunks protruding to keep us on our toes. I wish for suspension in places, but I’m having far too much fun to be resentful of rigidity. Another student and I hoot and holler to each other with elation and a tone is set for the trip. It settles in that we are to be confounded, amazed, and filled with gratitude to be able to experience the dichotomy and marriage of the flow state of mountain biking that defies time, and landscapes that narrate it to the n’th degree.

Afternoon Class

Morning at Bonita Tank

Our next trip would be in the Chuska and Lukachukai mountains of Navajo Nation.The geologic and social history of this region has a visceral effect on those who visit it, and a much more deeply felt effect on those who live there. It is impossible to ignore the geology of these mountains.

Looking West from the Lukachukai

A significant portion of our route would be on the Chinle formation, which, along with the Morrison, is known for being rich in Uranium. These layers tell a story at the intersection of geology, geography, and society. The effects of Leetso, the Navajo word for Uranium, are still felt to this day. The community of Cove, and surrounding communities and homes have been affected dramatically by the uranium mining since the 1940s. From mine tailings contaminating the water supply, to homes being built with the radioactive dirt, to tailing piles blowing in the wind.

Fortunately, while we were there, we were informed that the route that we were riding may be very different in the future, due to road improvement projects in an effort to assist the EPA and other environmental agencies in remediating the uranium mines. That road improvement may also remove the 2 mile horizontal hike a bike traverse of a sand dune covered road that Kurt, one of the instructors and the man who mapped our route, is secretly quite fond of.

Horizontal Hike A Bike

The Chuska and Lukachukai ranges are some of the most ecologically and geologically diverse landscapes in the Southwest, which is impressive given their relatively small size in comparison to other ranges. We began our ride on Chuska sandstone, which virtually only occurs in these mountains, as it is the only place where it has yet to be eroded away. The decomposed layer made for sandy riding, and those of us with plus sized tires were thankful for our choice. We rode through firs and pines, which are relatively rare in this part of the American Southwest.

Much of our ride through the Chuskas was along dirt roads and doubletrack, with our high point reaching just over 9,000’ at the top of Roof Butte. We traveled through high desert meadows lush with aspens and sheep, filled water from stock tanks, and chatted with locals about a feral bull that they have been chasing for years. Luckily, and yet to my chagrin, we never saw this bull, but instead caught a fleeting glimpse of wild horses.

Our last evening of riding took us through the radioactive layers and eventually onto a slickrock playground made of Navajo and Wingate formations, which excited Kaitlyn to the point of sprinting the final half mile and proceed to ride giddily around a pothole, transforming it into a sandstone velodrome[a]. We finished the ride by flying over slickrock “roads” and through dried river beds into Cove, and then met with a local grade school class to discuss our trip and attempt to understand their sense of place. One girl lamented watching a cougar in her backyard, and another child related to our masochism by telling us of his daily commute to school on two wheels.

Slickrock Sunrise

Our final leg of the course began somewhere between Gunnison and Crested Butte, Colorado. This portion of the trip would be the physical crux, as we had multiple passes over 10,000’. We would ride up and over the Reno divide, into Taylor Park, then over Star Pass into Crested Butte.The riding would reflect the tumultuous nature of the Laramide Orogeny (which is a great band name), and the subsequent glaciation. The dichotomy of the ancient actions of mountain building, and the recent glacial grinding, would set a theme for this leg: expect the dramatic.

Perfection

We pushed ourselves through elevation and exhaustion. This was the first portion of the course where we dealt with rain. As we descended into Taylor park for the night, the sky opened up. We set up our shelters in a soaked rush, and as I set water to boil, I found myself grinning with gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to be wet and cold, and to be warm again. Gratitude for sil-nylon and the smell of rain and lemongrass tea, but mostly gratitude to share this experience with 6 others who had never camped off of a bike before. My peers, who just a few weeks beforehand had never touched a frame bag were now wondering at what point it would be reasonable to re-lube their chains after the storm.

Classroom Vibes

The following days brought 12,000’ hike-a-bikes, glorious ribbons of singletrack through alpine meadows, and sunrise sending of buffed out moto trail into Crested Butte, where we would relax ad recuperate before an optional day ride. Our goal was to leave camp by 7am to beat the noontime rains that would surely turn the Mancos Shale that most of our route was made of to an un-rideable muck. The route was a scenic tour of Paradise Divide, near Crested Butte.

Water break heading into Taylor Park

Climbing up on dirt roads, descending through Schofield Basin, and finally climbing the twisty singletrack to the top of the classic 401 trail.

Morning Climb to the Paradise Divide

This spur was an optional day ride for our group of 9, and five of us chose to use that day to recuperate from the previous weeks of riding loaded mountain bikes. If it weren’t for the dogged stoke and determination of two of my other peers, I just might have used that day to rest as well. I respected the desires of my new friends to climb nearly 3,000 feet in the morning by choice, but I respect the honesty and awareness of personal needs and well being that most of us chose even more.

We began to climb in the cool morning light, and, between words, watched the angle of the sun change on barren peaks. I ate my oats while riding and had to backtrack to retrieve a fallen spork. We chatted about our experience in the field up to this point and lost our breath in conversation and altitude.

The reward of descending the 401 was well worth it. Smooth lines through a glacial valley, bermed corners and just enough weeds and roots to make it feel less like a local classic but a gem of singletrack hidden among mountain roads. The perfect end to an already incredible course.

Approaching the 401

This course was riddled with picturesque landscapes, fast lines, heavy breathing,cold oatmeal and gritty coffee. Of course, as bikepackers these are the things we dream of. We catalog the pieces of perfection in our minds and on our social media. But to be truthful, the hard breaths on the roads and trails, and the humility brought by the struggles they bring will stick in my mind longer.

Classic 401 Views

Sure, I got to ride my bike for a month, and that’s all well and good. What I found to be more important was the fact that I was able to witness a sport and a machine that had previously brought me the joys and pains of recreation bring education, and sense of place to myself and my peers. Watching that humility streak smiles of self-actualization across the faces of 8 other human beings for the many miles we shared will remain in my mind long after memories of berms and jumps fade. We are not here to shred, but rather to interact with the landscape, and in doing so, let it teach us. It holds true that defying gravity can provide temporary pleasure, but intimately interacting with it, understanding it, and ultimately respecting it? That grounds us. That will last a lifetime.

When I was in 7th grade we went on a field trip to museum and there was a pond next to museum and a kid fell in the pond and so we had to go back to school early. That’s as close as I can come to relating to this.

C Law

Great writeup of what looks like an awesome course. I shared an office with Kurt in grad school. That dude would put in more miles on his lunch break than I could get in a week. Glad to see he’s found a way to merge two of his passions and is spreading the love!

Locke Hassett

It’s pretty nuts how fast the dude is.

Paul Paul

As a geography student myself, this has me dreaming. One of the best write ups with stunning pictures I have read this year on the Radavist. It’s amazing to see the ideas you can come up with once you leave the classroom setting.

Locke Hassett

That means alot. Thank you!

Julius

#28 blew my mind.

Scott

This totally takes me back to my geology student days where people would ‘epic’ on overnight trips. Good times and stories for sure :)

Will

Great photos and story. That would have been a fun class to take. And I know this isn’t a geology site, but man it’s too bad that what you end up doing for work as a geologist rarely involves doing the cool shit like this, or other fun field work. Sure there’s exceptions, as Kurt shows. I got into it in college. And in grad school I was got paid (barely) to survey/research caves in the Bahamas. It was awesome. But, for a job, I wound up doing all kinds of environmental sampling, which involved a lot of boring work in industrial areas. Nine years of that was enough… Anyway, my point is, geology rocks. But it’s sure hard to find jobs that allow you to do the cool parts of geology!

Great stuff… what type of photo gear was involved in this beautiful photo essay?

Locke Hassett

Thanks! I used a Contax G1 with a Zeiss Planar 45mm f/2 and Kodak Ektar 100 35mm for the first two legs of the trip (anything that looks quintessentially desert-y). I used a Fujifilm XE-1 with a Fujinon 18mm f/2 for Crested Butte.

GnR

P is for the P in Prescott College. R is for the R in Prescott College….
Thanks for representing some of the best things about PC.

Peter Chesworth

Very enjoyable piece – light writing style and beautiful pictures.

Marcus Davis

As a professor, biologist/paleontologist, and mountain biker… this is THE coolest course I’ve ever seen. I want to take it. Great pics!

Jordan Moran

As a geology student and cyclist living on the east coast this is a dream of mine. The only thing that could have made this piece better was a little cleavage, butte its not your fault. Thanks for carrying on the stoke and showing just how rad this planet is!

Locke Hassett

The geology puns in this comment section alone are worth reading the article. Cheers!

This why I live in this beautiful area we call the Four Corners. I could’ve made a choice of many places after growing up here, but i can make adventures in all four seasons and four states whenever time free time comes up. I live close to the Chuska Mountains, with a mtn bike trail project being developed. So much geology and scenery from high scrub desert to alpine tundra in the upper reaches.